Youth and Time, Life and Regret
by Victor Stillwater
Summary: My first HP fic. This is the story of an original character of mine in Hogwarts as he tries to fulfill his one wish, with powers only he possesses. R&R!
1. A Different Brand of Magic

Welcome to my first attempt at entering the Harry Potter Universe. Granted, my fascination for the magical and occult extends far beyond the realms of Rowling's original works, and to this end I wished to write a story that reflected possibilities beyond her work.  
  
More than anything else though, I wished to write a story that would help me release some emotional tension I'm feeling at present. The story itself, which will have more chapters than I will probably think of at present, does not reflect my problem in any respect. It will talk about many aspects of life that people rarely think about, however.  
  
For now, please accept this prologue- a teaser chapter, you could say. Simply read and review it, and hopefully, if I garner enough support for it, I shall truly place my whole heart into writing this. Till then, please enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: This is not a homosexual romance fantasy based on Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling has rights to the whole setting and system of magic in this story, though the main character, and some other characters such as the conductor, of this story is entirely of my creation.  
  
------  
  
Chapter 1: A Different Brand of Magic  
  
He awoke from his short nap as they neared the end of the line. The magnificent landscape of the Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft greeted his eyes, growing larger and larger till the Hogwarts Express finally stopped.  
  
The young man who had just turned fifteen closed his eyes once more, and conjured up images of black robes and flame drowning in the sound of deathly wailing. The ebb and flow of sound and sight had been terrifying in the first year he had acquired the vision, but he had been accustomed to this blight-filled imagery for years now, and knew just what to do to end the madness. Imagining himself within the flames, his thoughts raced to the memory of water, and the twinkling motes of light, and the rustle of leaves far off in the distance, and called it to him.  
  
Water, light and tranquility washed over the copy of himself within his mind and bathed it in a glow of faintest blue.  
  
"Live," the young man whispered to himself. The simple utterance weaved through the air of reality, spreading throughout the train. There was not a soul who could not hear the word, and everyone slowly began to look around them, wondering where the soothing voice came from.  
  
In the recesses of his mind, the faint blue glow began to spread outward from his body, extinguishing the chaos that enveloped him, though it did not leave as quietly as he had hoped it would. The chaos struggled and screamed, writhing in agony, cursing the young man.  
  
The young man, however, was undaunted. He once more called out the word, leaving many a startled passenger in reality, and ending the latest of a never-ending series of nightmares within him.  
  
He bathed in the glow for a few moments more before opening his eyes once again. The conductor had been trying to call him for the past few moments, and was about to shake him when the young man opened his eyes and startled the old conductor.  
  
"I apologize for not responding," he said. "I did not wish to frighten you, but I simply needed to close my eyes for a few more minutes."  
  
"Ah, it's alright kid," replied the conductor. "I've 'ad stranger things 'appen on this 'ere train, ya know. I reckon it'll be a few more hours before you get any sleep, what with the welcoming feast and all, so I don't mind your having a few extra winks on my train."  
  
"Thank you, sir. It has been a rather interesting trip for me, actually."  
  
"Eh, I'm glad to hear that. You should hurry up now, before all the newcomers leave the station. Don't worry about your larger bags. They've been sent to the school already."  
  
The young man took his robe off the hanger placed it over his uniform. "It will be quite a different experience doing spells in this," he thought, as he picked up a small knapsack he had stored in the upper compartment and slung it over his back. Lastly, he picked up a golden rod that sat beside him and faced the conductor. In an effortless maneuver, he turned once, letting his robe sway and giving his arm space to move. By the time he faced the conductor again, the rod had mysteriously disappeared, leaving the conductor wondering what had happened.  
  
"That's a fine bit of magic there, kid," said the conductor. "Where'd the rod go, and what did ye do?"  
  
The young man silently weaved past the conductor and made his way down the train's steps to the station. Before he took the final step, however, he turned and spoke once more.  
  
"First off sir, I'd prefer if you called me Kelven. Nothing bad with using names between friends, eh, Conductor Garven?"  
  
The conductor opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Kelven continued.  
  
"Second, before you think I used some kind of spell again, I should let you know that I read the passenger manifest before boarding. The man at Platform 9¾ was rather nice about it too."  
  
"But what about the rod? How'd you do that?" wondered the now bewildered conductor.  
  
"That," Kelven replied, "was no magic." He parted his robe on one side to reveal the rod latched firmly onto a mechanism he wore on his belt. Kelven shifted his belt a little, moving the mechanism and rod to his back once more, and hiding it under his robes.  
  
The young mage smiled at the conductor, and jumped off the last step onto the train platform. He ran to the throng of students that had made their way to the far end of the platform for boarding the boats to Hogwarts.  
  
-------  
  
"Them wizards these days- so much different from the ones that went here before," shrugged the conductor. As he cleaned the young wizard's compartment, he heard a sudden sound behind him.  
  
It was an envelope addressed to him. Garven opened the message and was rather amazed at what he found. Inside were two gold pieces, a note, a baggage claim card and three slivers of glass: one of turquoise, another of alabaster, and yet another jade.  
  
The note read:  
  
"Conductor Garven,  
  
I know we shall see each other again, and I hope that you could indulge me by sitting with me in this compartment and regaling me with stories of students that had come and gone from Hogwarts during your term as conductor when next we meet.  
  
For now though, I was hoping you could do something for me. Upon your return to Platform 9¾, please make your way to King's Cross Station, a train station in the Muggle world. Go to the receptionist at the baggage counter there and show them the claim card. They shall give you a key to locker number twenty-seven. Inside you will find enough gold to fund a simple task for me, with enough left over for yourself to make your life as a conductor a lot more comfortable. Look for anyone in Diagon Alley who can combine these glass slivers into a ring for me, and give them as much as they need to do so. When you have settled on a price, pay him, and have the ring made. Once he is done making it, add another five thousand gold for his services and tell him about this day.  
  
If you are wondering what these two gold pieces are for, they're meant for you and the ring maker to share a drink over. Become the best of friends if you so choose. Tell him that some time from now I shall meet with you both and ask for the ring. Then we shall share a meal and I'll explain what this is all about. Till then, tell not another soul.  
  
Much Thanks,  
  
Kelven "Stillwater" Lentz  
  
P.S. This was magic, by the way. Nothing special, though a different brand of magic from what you're accustomed to seeing from most mages. Take care of yourself, and stay away from Charman Street on the fifteenth of November. Trust me on this, and simply refrain from drinking that night. Believe me, you shan't regret it."  
  
"Them wizards these days. . ." sighed the old conductor. He smiled at the young man's letter and returned to his duties, putting the letter in his breast pocket. With a letter as interesting as this, how could he refuse the young man's request? 


	2. A Sinister Sorting

I apologize for taking so long in posting the second chapter. Let us say I got preoccupied with my own little projects and such. That, and I'm slowly trying to learn to have a social life. Anyway, enjoy Chapter 2. Know that Chapter 3 is in the works already. Please Read and Review!  
  
Chapter 2: A Sinister Sorting  
  
Kelven Lentz walked up to Professor McGonagall calmly, trying to understand the magic that powered an object such as the Sorting Hat. He had heard of artifacts such as these existing all throughout the wizarding world, but had never seen one up close, and he was left puzzled by the stories people had told him of it.  
  
"A sentient hat that tells people where to go?" thought the young wizard. He looked at the Sorting Hat at as it spoke to the congregation, calling forth the name of the house of Ravenclaw to the cheers and applause of the young girl it had just sat on and the people who would become her family. It was an odd thing for him, more for what drove the hat to live rather than its ability to reason and choose.  
  
There was certainly no doubt as to its enchantment, but it perplexed him to have no inkling as to what gave the ragged old hat sentience. Yet there he was, sitting, waiting for the Professor McGonagall to place it on his head. The thought of having his entire life known by a ragged, old hat, however enchanted it may be, slowly unsettled him.  
  
Dumbledore could see the young wizard's discomfort. "It cannot hurt you," Dumbledore reassured Kelven, "for it is only there to tell us which house is meant for you. Kelven nodded at the headmaster's reassuring words and closed his eyes.  
  
The Sorting was about to begin.  
  
-------  
  
"Interesting . . . interesting indeed," said the Sorting Hat to Kelven. "You have many stories to tell, many interesting little things that make it very hard for me."  
  
"I'm sorry . . . sir?" replied the mage, trying to determine whether a hat would have a gender. "I'm afraid this is rather unsettling for one such as myself, not to mention the fact that I cannot really understand what you mean. In what way have I made it very hard for you? Is there anything I can do to help?"  
  
"Humility too!" exclaimed the hat. "You have many interesting qualities that make it very difficult for me to choose a school for you. You must have been very strong to fight all of these . . ."  
  
"I would rather that you not go there," was his curt interruption. "If you can truly read my mind and know all there is about me, then I shall accept it as fate that you now know. And now that you know all that I am, and where I have been, where shall you place me?"  
  
"That depends."  
  
"On what?"  
  
"Well, there are many things. You are gifted, this is certain. Your heart, however, is torn. I remember one such as you who made it difficult for me to choose."  
  
"Harry Potter, I would have to presume. I have heard many of the stories about your sortings, and his comes readily to mind."  
  
"You are correct, though you are much, much more difficult. I can see that the both of you have your own special gifts, and your own will to persevere is stronger than most. He, however, knew where he wished to go, but you . . . you have come to learn all you can, only to leave and . . ."  
  
"Yes," was all Kelven could say.  
  
"Then I shall not speak for you. Call the name of your new home when this little conversation of ours ends, and you shall go there. Let me tell you this, however. It matters not which crest you carry and where you sleep. In the end, you will still have to face . . ."  
  
The Sorting Hat's words were once again interrupted, though not by Kelven's own. The flames and dark robes from within Kelven had returned, and assailed the two within the confines of Kelven's own mind.  
  
-------  
  
The students in the Great Hall could not understand the battle raging inside Kelven. As the young wizard raised a hand and shouted two words to the sky, the students in the hall erupted in laughter at the strange sight.  
  
-------  
  
Spherus Targe!" he cried out, as a spherical barrier of blue light encased the wizard and the hat, slowing their enemy's advance.  
  
"This is only temporary," Kelven told the Sorting Hat. "This light can only hold darkness out for so long. I can cast them out for a while with my banishing spell, but. . . I do not know if I have the strength for it."  
  
"Try," was all the Hat could say.  
  
-------  
  
Argus Filch and Professors McGonagall and Snape tried to maintain order, none the wiser to Kelven's struggle for survival. Only Professor Dumbledore, whose face grew pale at the altogether alien incantation, had the faintest understanding of what was transpiring but could not do a thing to help.  
  
And so the whole hall simply watched in silence, observing gestures never seen and hearing words never spoken.  
  
That is, until they heard a single word reverberate through all of Hogwarts.  
  
-------  
  
"LIVE!"  
  
The young mage barked out the word in desperation, trying to gather what strength he had for this single strike.  
  
The incantation strengthened the glow, drowning the mage and the hat in azure light. Kelven's banishment spell tried to spread and grow by consuming the darkness. Instead, it was consumed by the darkness. The evil miasma encroached upon the shield, slowly tainting the waning blue light with black.  
  
-------  
  
The ghosts of Hogwarts began to convulse in midair as the word made its way past the halls, far beyond the Quiddtich field and the Forbidden Forest. They all grew paler and less clearly defined as the reverberating word slowly forced the shaking ghosts into the Great Hall, towards Kelven and the Sorting Hat. Swirling like a pale tornado, the ghosts began to shift and form and mold itself into a single entity in front of Kelven.  
  
Professor McGonnagal sorted through the inventory of spells in her mind, looking for anything that could stop this madness from continuing. Professor Dumbledore only put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"We cannot fight this," said Dumbledore resignedly. "These are Kelven's demons, and only he knows the spells to fight them."  
  
Turning to the teachers, the headmaster spoke with urgent authority. "Move the students outside for their protection. Close the doors of the Hall. I shall stay here to watch over Mr. Lentz."  
  
Doing as they were told, knowing something was wrong yet not fully understanding the circumstances, the teachers ushered the gossiping students outside and Filch, being the last to leave, closed the doors of the Great Hall behind him.  
  
Albus Dumbledore knew nothing could be done. Taking his goblet from the table, he took one last sip from it before putting readying himself for whatever evil would come his way. He did not know what would happen, but he understood one thing: should something beyond his imagining transpire, it could not be allowed to leave the Hall at any cost. 


End file.
